


Radio

by TMirai



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Pre-Canon, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 01:45:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7147091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMirai/pseuds/TMirai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The effect of memories is instantaneous and sharp, like venom coursing through the blood. A pair of two-way radios leave one man afflicted with a memory he’ll never be able to get out of his system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radio

**Author's Note:**

> I am quite obsessed with the connection between Reaper and Soldier: 76, who were both recruited into Overwatch while serving together in an experimental soldier enhancement program and, canonly, were very close friends. They share a lot of history, and while both characters are compelling as their current incarnations and aliases, the mysterious circumstances and possible facets of their relationship are interesting to think about. I have no hesitation with saying I ship them so hard, but more so their past selves. The idea of how such a relationship began when they were young soldiers, developed into a strong and complimentary partnership, and eventually crumbled is fascinating (and sexy) to explore.

Memories were like venom; they struck him suddenly and without warning. His new identity and name were his armor, thick and calloused and separating him from a deceased man and a destroyed life. It had more cracks than he cared to admit, and it was through these hair-thin breaks and weakened fractures that the memories pierced through. And like venom, they did not just affect his mind. Seizing limbs, constricted lungs, and clammy skin–it coursed through every channel of his body through which his blood flowed and rendered him aching.

The culprit was not his own willful mind. He had long developed a guard against wandering thoughts and wistful reminiscing. The mask concealing his face was as much a shield as his moniker. When he wore both, he was focused and all the more distant from everything that was not in the now and necessary to his objective.

Maybe that’s why his predators were so effective. They were innocuous and unassuming. The rumble of a humvee engine and the scent of its tank. The deep green of a lime. A pair of two-way radios.

They were in the bottom of a crate he had “liberated” from a weapons facility in Philadelphia. Tucked beneath the EMP bombs that had been his target, the small, long range walkie talkies looked barely used.

He picked one out of the case, thumbing his finger over the blank digital screen and grey buttons. A low, electric whine hummed in his ear, leaving a prickly tremor that made him twitch. His hand began to shake, and his gloves creaked as he tightened his fist around the radio.

The venom was quick and its effects instant. He could do nothing but endure them…

* * *

“Gabe? It’s Jack. Can you hear me? Over.”

Releasing the button on the side of the walkie, Jack shifted restlessly from foot to foot as he waited for a response. He was a little anxious, but mostly he was just cold. The temperature wasn’t even that low, yet the wind cut sharply through the bare trees and into the tall watchtower, which was little more than a box on stilts. Not even his insulated, standard-issue jacket could fully ward away the chill.

Jack was about to press the button again when a click followed by the buzz of static made him start. “Yeah, I can hear you,” replied the low, gravelly voice on the other end, made even more so from the radio’s electric echo. “And do you really have to say ‘over?’”

Jack’s mouth curled upward into a big, involuntary grin. “It’s protocol. How else would you know when I’ve finished talking so you can respond? Over.”

There was a slight pause before the next response, long enough for one annoyed Gabriel-Growl. “Because you’ll stop talking. That’s how I’ll know.” This time, Jack heard his heavy sigh. “Are you sure this frequency is private?”

Still smirking, Jack slipped the strap of his rifle off his shoulder to lean it against the low wall of the watchtower. “It better be. I traded half a month’s commissary credits just to use these for one night.” His grin grew. “Why? You worried?”

“About being caught with unissued radios stolen from the tech depot?” Gabriel said with the dry lack of intonation he was masterful at. “Of course not.”

Jack clucked his tongue. “They aren’t stolen. We’re renting them.” Lowering himself to the floor, the soldier sighed as he rocked back on his rump and leaned into one of the tower’s corners. The walls were low enough that the wind still grazed over the dome of his head, rustling his short blonde hair. “Besides, Jonsey said he’s loaned the ‘Whack Off Walkies’ to half the company, and the quartermaster has never caught on. Or caught anyone.”

Gabriel made a disgusted noise. “What a pleasant thought,” he grumbled. It was a crude name, but appropriate considering everyone knew what the pair of radios were unofficially used for. For the right price, the junior Quartermaster Officer Jonsey would surreptitiously rent out the pair of radios that shared a single, private, and secure frequency. Sometimes they were used for pranks or fucking around, but the Whack Off Walkies served best for cold, lonely, sexually pent nights spent on watch duty with a very close friend.

“Hey, at least they aren’t big and clunky like those old ones we use for drills. They’re the size of cell phones too, so…” Jack’s eyes hooded, and the expression transferred into his lowered voice. “It’s not too different from what we’re used to, right?”

He felt a heat growing in his ears, cheeks, and extremities much lower. Wetting his lips, he waited for the throaty timbre of Gabriel’s voice. Jack loved the way the radio further deepened the pitch, and how the fuzzy filter emphasized his natural growl.

He was rewarded with a brief chuckle that made a quiver roll down his spine. “And here I thought you wanted to actually talk to me,” Gabriel replied. Jack could hear the faint shift in his usual deadpan tone. The other soldier was smiling, if just a little.

“Of course I do. We’re talking right now, aren’t we?” Jack reached over and dragged his pack into the corner to recline against its bulk, which was far more comfortable than the hard, cold metal of the box. “So then…what are you wearing?”

The other soldier snorted. “The same thing you are, Jack Ass.” Gabriel sighed. “This is weird. I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“Honestly, I can’t either. You must be getting easy for me.” Jack took a long, deep breath and exhaled just as slow. Save for the distant chirp of insects and birds and the rustling of the trees, the night was blissfully quiet and undisturbed. He moved his free hand to his jacket and begin to slip the buttons open. “C’mon, Gabe. Our points are always dead, and I gave Jonesy most of my commissary allowance for this. Might as well get my money’s worth.”

Gabriel clucked his tongue and Jack knew he had him. He could imagine the other soldier sitting in a guard tower like his own, some half a mile or so away at the next perimeter point. Was he cold too? Was he lying down, sitting up, or maybe leaning against one of the tower’s posts?

The static remained for a few seconds longer. Then there was a defeated huff. “Fine.” Jack heard rustling in the background followed by a metallic rattling and the sound of a zipper. “What are you doing?”

Blue eyes hooding, Jack’s tongue passed briefly over his mouth as he scooted further down his pack until the back of his neck and head sank into it. “I’m thinking about your hands,” he answered, his voice lowered to a phone-sex appropriate murmur. His parka now opened, Jack skipped bothering to unbuckle his complicated tactical vest and went straight for his belt. “I’m so cold and you’re always so hot. They’d probably feel good on my skin.”

“It’s not even that cold. You’re from Indiana, for fuck’s sake.”

Jack waggled his brows even though Gabriel couldn’t see. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to warm me up.”

The groan he received in response was not aroused. “If this is the best you can do, Morrison, neither of us are going to get your money’s worth.”

Laughing again, Jack’s eyes narrowed. Gabriel’s words weren’t a snark. They were a challenge. His pants were open now, and he told the other man so by groaning softly as his hand pushed past his waistband and into his underwear. “Are you hard yet?” he asked

“Why would I be when you haven’t said anything to get me hard?” Gabriel retorted, but there was no edge in his tone. They were–and truly rare for anything that came out of Gabriel Reyes’ mouth–playful. “Are you?”

“Mmm…” Closing his eyes, Jack enjoyed the heat of his rigid flesh as his fingers encircled it. “I’ve been hard since I first heard your voice, Gabe.”

The click of Gabriel’s radio was followed by a low, hissing breath sucked through teeth. “Much better.” He growled. “I can’t hear you when I’m talking. And this damn clicking is distracting.”

Jack smirked, managing to free himself from the confines of his pants one-handedly. The brush of the night air against his flushed, erect cock wasn’t unpleasant but rather a sensual sensation that contrasted to that of his warm, calloused hand stroking its length. “Would you rather I do all the talking then? I could tell you what I would do to you if I were in that watch tower with you. Or maybe what I was thinking about while watching you during morning drills.”

There was a delay in Gabriel’s response, and Jack waited, his fist firmly and teasingly massaging the head of his penis. As sexy as it was to listen to the other soldier’s dark voice purring from the radio, the silence was just as exciting. In it he could imagine Gabriel with the walkie held in one hand, the other groping beneath his own pants. He looked so damn good in his fatigues. The thought of them sloppily pulled open, framing his thick, dark cock fisted in his strong grip; the mental image of that alone was enough to make Jack shudder.

It was the throaty breath over the walkie that made the soldier’s blood rush all over beneath goose-pimpled skin. “Yeah, you do the talking,” Gabriel finally spoke. He snickered that cool, short laugh that made him such a sexy asshole. “It’s the least you can do for roping me into this.” He moaned again, louder and even deeper. Like one last gift to Jack’s ears before his end would go silent. “Tell me what you’d do to me right now.”

Grinning, Jack shifted on the firm flooring, giving his hips a little roll to thrust into his touch. He wished he could have both hands free to fully stimulate himself. Actual phone sex did have its advantages, but it was better than nothing. And Jack was about to make it as good as possible.

“I want to feel how hot you are, Gabe…” he began, his voice a murmur of earnest desire. He didn’t play it up for his lover’s benefit. Gabriel would toss the walkie over the watchtower if he knew he was faking, and Jack would never do that. He didn’t need to lie or posture. They were always honest and upfront with each other, in training, on the field of battle, and in the bedroom. Jack honestly wanted Gabriel Reyes more than he ever wanted any other person before; he had told him that some many months ago. He wanted to put his hands and mouth all over the man’s gorgeous, perfectly muscled body; and so he told him so.

By the time he was lewdly describing how his tongue would trace every line and curve between Gabriel’s strong, powerful thighs, Jack was nearly undone. He had forgotten the mild night and its cold winds. His entire body was burning under his gear, moist with sweat. His cock and hand were slick and messy, making his now quickened stroking frictionless. Not once had Gabriel interrupted his wanton, graphic prose. Jack didn’t need to guess what his lover sounded like on the other end of that walkie. All of those sounds, words, and expressions from countless times before had been well committed to memory.

But now he was close, and all he needed was a final thrust toward his end. “Nngh, Gabe…” Jack’s words were broken by short, panting breaths. He was practically writhing, booted feet planted firmly to allow his hips to jerk upward into his grip; his flesh squelched, squeezed, and rubbed together wetly. “T-tell…tell me what you want right now. I want…ah, f-fuh–I want to hear you say it.”

There was no reply at first, and the silence was long enough that Jack began to wonder if something had gone wrong on Gabriel’s end. Or maybe the bastard fell asleep.

“–your mouth on me.”

The lowly rasped sentence was incomplete, though easily deciphered. Still, grinning, Jack huffed through his moans, “Say again, Reyes? I don’t think I heard you…ahh…very clear. Over.”

He released the button on the walkie just in time to hear Gabriel’s snarling, almost angry growl. “I said I want your fucking mouth on me, Jack. I want to–ngh!–feel you take every inch of me before I come down your throat. And then…I’m going to take every inch of you…”

Jack was already coming before Gabriel’s finger released the button. The growl had done it, and the soldier was left grunting between gnashed teeth as he jerked and arched. In the haze of his orgasm, he initially forgot to press his walkie’s talk button again. His hand fumbled for the switch, and he gasped Gabriel’s name into the receiver in his last surges.

Sweat beading on his burning face and neck, Jack’s blue eyes fluttered open to dazedly stare at the dark canopy above him. Groaning, he sagged against the floor, hand stilling between his legs. “Nnn…G-Gabe?”

Again it took a moment, but Gabriel answered. He was just as breathless, though the sound was much more guttural. “Yeah, Jack?” he huffed.

Chuckling wearily, Jack’s head lolled against his bag. “Jerk. I wanted to hear you.”

Gabriel snickered. “Same.”

They didn’t say anything for a long while, both basking in the shared afterglow from their respective orgasms. Ever so often Gabriel would press the button on his radio and Jack would listen to him moan and breathe. Jack did the same, offering the other man the sounds of his waning pleasure.

He was not completely without a sense of duty though. Jack eventually, if lethargically, sat up from his bag and put aside the radio to clean up and tuck himself back into his pants. He was a little dizzy as he stood, and took a large gulp of the crisp air to reawaken his senses.

“Jack?”

Gabriel’s voice was calmer and steady again, though now inflected with a lightness reserved only for those infrequent, stolen moments between them. Jack stooped down to pick up the radio. “Yeah?”

“Mm,” was Gabriel’s reply and Jack smiled. He picked up his rifle, fitting it on his shoulder, and took up his post beneath the shadowed awning of the watchtower again. He kept the radio close to his side. 0600 was, after all, still several hours away.

* * *

Soldier: 76 stared down at the radio behind the crimson visor of his mask. His thumb tensely hovered over the talk button on the side, but he pulled it away. Lowering the walkie back into the foam padding and replacing the EMPs atop them, he secured the crate before hefting it onto his shoulder. He walked stiffly with a sharp ache digging into his chest.

The antidote to this venomous memory was far out of reach, perhaps even completely unattainable. He could steel himself against its cruel effects, but he could never purge it from his system. Some remnant would always remain, diluted through every fiber of his mind and body, and still just as potent.


End file.
